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9 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


OEMS. 


o 


b 


o 


BY 


HELEN   PATTERSON 


POEMS. 


BY 


HELEN    PATTERSON, 


Christmas.   1903. 


?R 


NOTE. 

->S-3<- 

'"pHE  following  are  chosen  from  a  large  number  of  unpublished  poems 
written  by  Mrs.  W.  H.  Patterson.  Some  of  them  were  intended  to 
be  set  to  music,  and  a  few  have  already  been  made  use  of  in  this  way  by 
Mrs.  Patterson.  Among  these  are  "  Evening,"  "  A  Ghost  Voice,"  "  Little 
Children,"  "Wishing,"  "  Voices,"  and  "Across  the  Sea."  The  poem, 
"Angel  Friends,"  has  been  set  to  music  by  the  late  W.  Sandys  Stanyon, 
and  appears  in  his  book  of  short  songs. 

It  has  been  impossible  in  a  little  book  of  this  kind  to  give  more  than 
a  few  of  the  writer's  shorter  poems,  and  it  has  been  with  feelings  of 
regret  that  many  verses,  equally  deserving  of  insertion,  have  had  to  be 
omitted 

The  selection  of  poetry  printed  herein  has  been  made  from  Mrs. 
Patterson's  manuscripts  by  her  children,  who,  having  derived  so  much 
pleasure  from  the  verses,  feel  that  these  may  be  a  source  of  pleasure  to 
others. 

Garranard,  Strandtovvn, 
Co.  Down, 

Christmas,  1903. 


922018 


CONTENTS. 


Only  a  Bit  of  Glass 

...       7 

Angel  Friends 

...       8 

Gone  Before 

...       9 

Across  the  Sea 

ii 

All  our  Might 

12 

A  Ghost  Voice 

...     13 

In    Memoriam 

...     14 

"Sans  peur  et  sans  reproche  " 

...     16 

Wishing    ... 

...      17 

"Awake,  thou  that  Sleepest  !" 

...     18 

Little  Children 

...      19 

Give  an  Account  ... 

...     20 

Lost 

..     21 

God  Bless  Grandmamma    ... 

22 

Blind 

23 

In  the  Cemetery    ... 

...     24 

Voices 

...     25 

For  Ever 

...     26 

Evening    ... 

...     27 

ONLY   A    BIT   OF    GLASS. 


Only  a  bit  of  common  glass 
Lying  upon  the  upturned  field, 

And  yet  its  lustre  can  surpass 

The  light  Golconda's  diamonds  yield. 

A  paltry  thing  of  little  worth; 

But  how  it  sparkles  where  it  lies  ! 
Resting  upon  the  dark  brown  earth. 

Yet  catching  glory  from  the  skies. 

The  sun  pours  down  a  shining  stream 
Upon  it :  though  a  thing  of  naught. 

It  glows  beneath  his  golden  gleam 
Like  gem  by  richest  treasure  bought. 


Only  a  bit  of  common  glass — ■ 

The  humble  soul  that  men  despise 

All  earthly  wisdom  may  surpass 
If  lit  by  glory  from  the  skies. 

Its  poor  surroundings  common  clay — 
By  careless  feet  how  oft  down-trod — 

It  lies  neglected,  till,  some  day, 
Upon  it  shines  the  smile  of  God. 

And  so,  perhaps,  when,  like  a  dream, 
The  things  of  earth  all  fade  and  pass, 

God's  jewels  may  be  those  that  seem 
To  us  but  "  bits  of  common  glass." 


sj 


8 


ANGEL    FRIENDS. 


Ye  do  err  who  tell  us,  holy 

Angels'  footsteps  never-more 
Tread  this  earth,  sin-stained  and  lowly, 

As  they  did  in  days  of  yore. 
Though  we  deem  not  we  are  near  them, 

Yet  their  presence  oft  can  thrill ; 
Though  we  may  not  see  nor  hear  them, 

Angels  are  around  us  still. 

Soul,  though  sorrow's  chain  hath  bound  thee, 
Though  a  fickle  world  may  frown, 

Fear  not,  angel  forms  float  round  thee, 
.  Seraph  eyes  look  pitying  down. 

O  thou  weary  spirit,  ponder, 

Let  this  thought  thy  being  fill — 

Wheresoever  thou  may'st  wander 
Angels  are  around  thee  still. 


GONE    BEFORE. 


To  another  sphere 
Love,  thou  hast  departed, 
And,  all  broken  hearted, 

I  am  lingering  here, 
Stretching  helpless  hands  and  crying 

In  the  darkness  drear. 

"  Sweet  soul,  speak  to  me, 
From  the  far-off  regions, 
Where  the  shining  legions 

Of  sweet  souls  like  thee 
Walk,  in  changeless  peace  and  gladness, 

By  the  crystal  sea, — 

"  Sweet  soul,  I  implore 
But  a  word — one  only — 
Look  upon  me  lonely, 

On  this  dreary  shore, 
Thou  that  in  the  heav'nly  mansions 

Dwellest  evermore, — 

"  Sweet  soul,  speak  to  me  ! 
Say  a  word  of  blessing, 
Though  the  old  caressing 

Nevermore  may  be, 
In  this  world.     Oh  !  is  it  ended 

For  eternity  ? 

"  Sweetest  spirit,  say 
How,  though  left  behind  thee, 
I  again  may  find  thee, 

Clasp  thee  close  some  day  : 
To  the  land  where  now  thou  dwellest 

Point  me  out  the  way." 


IO 

O'er  the  wide  abyss 
Comes  a  soft  replying. 
Like  a  light  breeze  sighing 

From  the  shores  of  bliss, 
Speaks  once  more  the  voice  long  silent, 

Speaks — and  tells  me  this — 

"  Dear  heart,  One  doth  stand 
Very  close  beside  thee  ; 
Only  let  Him  guide  thee — 

Only  take  His  hand — 
Only  trust  Him — He  will  bring  thee 

To  this  blessed  land." 

Then  upon  my  sight, 
Dim  with  nights  of  weeping- 
Weary  vigils  keeping — 

Shines  a  wondrous  light- 
Heaven's  blessed  dawn  is  breaking 

Calm,  and  pure,  and  bright. 

And  I  see,  and  know 
Who  is  standing  by  me- — 
Who,  unseen  was  nigh  me- 

Through  my  night  of  woe — 
"  Thou  who  art  the  Way,  oh,  let  me 

Take  Thy  hand  and  go  !  " 


II 


ACROSS   THE   SEA. 


In  the  fading  autumn, 

When  summer's  beauty  has  fled, 
And  leaves  that  made  cool  dark  shadows 

Are  lying  withered  and  dead  ; 
Over  the  wide,  wide  ocean, 

The  swallows,  speeding  away. 
Fly  from  the  gloom  and  sadness 

That  come  with  the  winter's  day; 
Fly  o'er  the  seething  surges, 

Over  the  fleecy  foam, 
Till,  in  a  land  of  summer, 

They  find  a  sunny  home. 

In  life's  fading;  autumn, 

The  souls  we  have  loved  the  best 
Fly  from  earth's  chills  and  sorrows, 

To  a  land  of  light  and  rest. 
Over  the  wide,  wide  ocean 

Of  death,  those  spirits  so  dear 
Take  their  flight  from  the  winter 

That  falls  upon  all  things  here  ; 
And  in  a  land  of  glory 

Is  their  abiding  place, 
Whose  sunshine  is  the  brightness 

Of  their  Heavenly  Father's  fare. 


12 


ALL    OUR    MIGHT. 


We  fret  and  struggle,  day  by  day, 
Against  life's  many  woes  and  cares, 
And  dread  the  pitfalls  and  the  snares 

That  lie  across  our  earthly  way. 

We  try  to  guide  our  steps  aright, 
Yet  stumble  — fall-«-again — again, 
And  all  our  efforts  are  in  vain, 

Although  we  strive  with  all  our  might. 

Our  might  !     Our  might  !     Ah  !  that  is  why 
We  cannot  bear  the  brunt  of  life — 
We  cannot  conquer  in  the  strife, 

But  in  the  conflict  faint  and  die. 

Our  might — which,  though  we  do  our  best 

To  alter  Nature's  simplest  law, 

Is  only  striving,  with  a  straw, 
A  roaring;  torrent  to  arrest. 

We  do  not  see  the  mighty  Hand 

Stretched  out  for  us  to  clasp  and  hold — 
The  Hand  that  worlds  can  frame  and  mould- 

The  strength  that  nothing  can  withstand. 

O  Father,  give  us  light  to  see 

That  weak  and  helpless  is  "our  might," 

And  we  can  only  guide  aright 
Our  footsteps  if  we  v/alk  with  Thee — 

That,  whether  life  be  short  or  long, 

Its  tempests  we  may  all  defy, 

If  Thou,  O  God,  art  only  nigh, 
For  in  Thy  strength  we  shall  be  strong. 


*3 


A    GHOST    VOICE, 


I  sit  at  my  old  piano,  and  you  wonder  why  I  play 
Only  these  chords  and  symphonies  ever  day  after  day ; 
You  do  not  understand  it,  and  think  it  an  idle  thing 
To  play  these  old  songs  o'er  and  o'er,  with  never  a  voice  to 
sing. 

But  oh,  a  voice  is  singing — a  voice  you  cannot  hear — 
The  voice  to  me  of  voices  most  perfect  and  most  dear ; 
You  do  not  know  the  fancies  that  lend  my  spirit  wings, 
And  carry  it  high  as  heav'n  when  the  beautiful  ghost-voice 


I  strike  the  chords  and  listen — I  hear  it — again — again, 
Breaking  my  heart  with  its  sweetness,  with  joy  that  is  almost 

pain. 
Lifting  me  from  the  shadows  with  power  beyond  control, 
I  strike  the  chords  of  the  music, — it  strikes  the  chords  of  my 

soul. 

And  I  think,  when  life  is  ending,  and  I  am  going  to  rest, 
That  He  who  gives  His  children  whateer  for  them  is  best, 
Will  let  me  hear  that  music  which  speaks  divinest  things. 
And,  like  a  tired  child,  fall  asleep,  while  the  beautiful  ghost- 
voice  sings. 


H 
IN     MEMORIAM. 


This  is  her  little  bed  ; 
How  oft  her  gentle  head 

Its  pillow  prest  ! 
Here  did  our  darling  die. 
Here  did  we  see  her  lie 

In  her  last  rest. 

Earth  with  its  flowers  is  gay, 
And  we  oft  sigh  and  say 

"  Would  she  were  here  !  ' 
Ah  !  we  forget  she  dwells 
Where  bloom  the  asphodels — 

Streams,  bright  and  clear, 

Flow  over  silver  sand — 

Oh  !  from  that  pleasant  land, 

Had  we  the  power, 
Xe'er  would  we  call  her  back 
'I'd  this  world's  weary  track 

E'en  for  an  hour. 

Y  i  it  is  hard  to  miss 
Love  that  was  sweet  as  this, 

Bitter  the  smart ; 
i .  ad  'tis  to  think  that  she 
!:-  but   a   memory 

Shrined  in  the  heart. 

Father  and  God  benign, 
Wherefore  must  we  resign 

What  is  so  sweet    . 
Why  must  Death's  sable  pall 
Darkly  thus  blot  out  all 

With  love  replete  .' 


i5 

Hush,  let  us  not  repine— 
Claim  as  our  own — not  Thine- 

I  Icr  who  is  gone  : 
She  was  a  spirit  dear, 
Sent  by  our  Father  here 

Us  to  lead  on. 

Lent  for  a  little  space, 
Then  to  her  dwelling-place 

Called  by  her  God, 
Leaving  a  lesson  sweet 
For  us  where'er  her  feet 

Our  pathways  trod. 

And  now  this  little  bed, 
Where  our  beloved  dead 

Closed  her  sweet  eyes, 
Is  as  an  altar  where 
Oft  on  the  wings  of  prayer 

Holv  thoughts  rise. 


Let  us  beside  it  lay 

Vain  worldly  thoughts  away. 

And  try  to  make 
All  that  we  do,  to  be 
What  her  pure  eyes  may  see 

For  her  dear  sake. 


i6 
"  SANS  PEUR  ET  SANS  REPROCHE." 


The  good  old  times  are  over, 

"When  brave  knights,  strong  and  true, 
In  armour  bright,  vent  forth  to  fight, 

And  doughty  deeds  to  do. 

The  days  are  jDast  when  heroes, 
With  helmet,  lance,  and  shield, 

With  thrust  and  blow,  laid  tyrants  low 
And  made  oppressors  yield. 

And,  as  we  read  the  story 

Of  times  that  now  are  fled, 
'Alas,"  we  say,  "  in  this,  our  day. 

All  chivalry  is  dead." 

Yet  are  there  not  around  us 
Brave  knights  and  heroes  bold. 

With  arm  as  strong  against  the  wrong 
As  in  the  days  of  old  ? 

For  all  who  bravely  battle 

With  ignorance  and  sin. 
And  fight  for  truth,  thev  are  in  sooth 

To  those  brave  knights  akin. 

Brave  knights  arc  still  among  u:~. 

We  see  them  every  day, 
Tho'  oft  their  guise  we  recognise 

But  as  they  pass  away 

Our  light   is  dim,  we  see  not 

The  armour  that  they  wear: 
Faith  is  their  shield — the  arms  they  wield 

Are  only  love  and  prayer. 

But  when,  all  warfare  over. 

They  gain  the  heav'nly  heights. 
('■■  d'e  light  divine  will  on  them  shine, 

And  show  His  faithful  knights. 


17 


WISHING. 


I  would  my  soul  were  like  a  quiet  lake, 
All  crystal  clear,  unruffled,  and  serene, 

Whose  placid  surface  storms  might  never  break. 
And  mirror'd  in  it  only  heav'n  be  seen. 

And  thou,  a  tall  majestic  tree,  should' st  grow 
Far  up  above,  yet  bending  over  me, 

And  gazing  down  into  the  depths  beloAv 

Reflected  there,  see  naught  save  heav'n  and  thee. 

The  same  soft  breeze  upon  us  both  should  blow — 
The  same  still,  silver  starlight  on  us  shine — 

Alike  in  winter's  gloom  or  summer's  glow, 

My  life,  belov'd,  should  blended  be  with  thine. 


I  would  I  were  to  thee  a  silent  star, 

In  hours  of  darkness  shining  on  thy  way, 

And  sending  to  thee  from  my  home  afar 

Some  pure  and  tender  thought  in  each  bright  ray. 

And  though  the  paths  of  earth  thy  feet  must  tread, 
Perchance  for  many  a  weary  day  and  year, 

Love's  quenchless  beacon,  shining  overhead. 
Should  win  thy  spirit  to  a  higher  sphere. 

So  should  I  watch  o'er  thee,  and  patient  wait 
Until  Time's  tide  did  bear  thee  on  to  me, 

And  Love's  light,  burning  at  the  golden  gate, 
Should  still  shine  on  throughout  eternity. 


i8 


'AWAKE,    THOU    THAT    SLEEPEST!" 


Sinner  although  I  am, 

Wretched  and  lost,  my  Lord,  Thou  callest  me; 
Thy  loving  voice  breaketh  the  deathful  calm, 
Bidding  me  come  to  Thee. 

Sunk  in  sin'^  slumber  deep 

Often  Thou  callest,  and  I  heed  Thee  not, 
Vain  worldly  dreams  are  with  me  in  my  sleep. 
But  Thou  art  all  forgot. 

Strike  me  with  Thy  kind  hand — 

Een  though  the  striking  break  my  heart  in  twain, 
So  that  Thy  loving  kindness  I  withstand 

Never,    dear   Lord,    again. 

Strike  me,  and  do  not  spare, 

Thou  on  whose  power  depends  my  every  breath  ; 
For  it  Thy  presence  be  no  longer  there, 

My  sleep  is  that  of  death. 

Wake  me  in>.  Lord,  to  praise 

All  that  Thou  for  my  sinful  soul  hast  done. 
Thanksgivings  lasting  through  my  earthly  days, 
And  then  in  Heaven  begun. 


19 


LITTLE    CHILDREN. 

"Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 


Except  ye  be  as  little  children,  never 
May  ye  the  Heav'nly  Kingdom  enter  in. 

E'en  though  with  noblest  mind's  supreme  endeavour 
Ye  strive  the  blessed  destiny  to  win. 

0  precept  hard  for  human  heart  to  follow- 
Too  high  and  pure  for  worldly  mind  to  learn — 

How  can  we,  'mid  allurements  false  and  hollow. 
The  beauty  of  a  life  like  this  discern. 

Except  ye  be  as  little  children — surely 

No  toilsome  task  is  theirs  who  would  obey 

His  blest  command,  whose  gentle  life  so  purely 
Has  shown  to  us  the  only  perfect  way. 

Blest  be  our  God,  who  gives  no  journey  dreary 
To  that  glad  home  where  all  His  chosen  meet  ; 

The  way  can  ne'er  be  very  rough,  nor  weary. 
That  He  has  made  for  little  children's  fei  I 

O  loving  Father  !  whatsoe'er  betide  us, 
As  little  children  trusting  may  we  be, 

Our  only  strength — that  Thou  art  still  beside  us. 
And  all  our  wisdom — only  knowing  Thee. 


20 


GIVE  AN    ACCOUNT. 


What  hast  thou  done  with  thy  youth  ? 

When  thy  life  wore  Spring's  beauty  and  brightness — 

Thy  soul  still  its  heavenly  whiteness — 
The  freshness  of  trust  and  of  truth — 
What  hast  thou  done  with  thy  youth  ? 

What  hast  thou  done  with  thy  mind  ? 

Hast  thou  poured  out  its  treasures  for  others, 

Shed  light  on  the  path  of  thy  brothers, 
And  helped  them  God's  kingdom  to  find  1 
What  hast  thou  done  with  thy  mind  ? 

What  hast  thou  done  with  thy  heart  1 

Hast  thou  giv'n  it  to  Christ's  holy  keeping. 
And  prayed  Him  that,  waking  or  sleeping. 

It  never  from  Him  may  depart  ? 

What  hast  thou  done  with  thy  heart  ? 

What  hast  thou  done  with  thy  gold  ? 

Hath  it  made  one  poor  home  brighter,  better, 

Or  hath  it  been  forged  as  a  fetter 
Thine  own  sordid  spirit  to  hold  ? 
What  hast  thou  done  with  thy  gold  ? 

What  hast  thou  done  with  thy  time  ? 

Say  what  dost  thou  bring  worth  the  showing 

To  Him  before  whom  thou  art  going  ? 
Oh,  hark  to  Eternity's  chime  ! 
What  hast  thou  done  with  thy  time  ? 


21 

LOST. 

Down  the  long  vista  of  the  years, 

As  mem'ry  glances, 
Nothing  so  sad  to  us  appears, 
Or  causes  such  regretful  tears, 

As  our  lost  chances. 

The  many  happy  golden  days 

We  let  go  by  us, 
Without  a  thought  of  love  or  praise 
To  Him  who  watched  o'er  all  our  ways 

And  still  kept  nigh  us. 

How  oft  our  brothers — sisters — poor — 

Life's  comforts  needed. 
While  we  their  ills  ne'er  tried  to  cure, 
Hut  let  them  woe  and  want  endure. 
By  us  unheeded. 

The  tender  hearts  that  patient  bore 

Love  unrequited, 
That,  faithful,  only  loved  us  more 
When  their  affection  o'er  and  o'er 

We  coldly  slighted. 

The  message  by  God's  servants  sent 

Our  hearts  to  soften, 
The  sermon  that  we  never  went 
To  hear,  because  on  folly  bent, 
Alas !  how  often. 

The  fatherless  and  widow,  we 

Passed  by,  heartbroken, 
The  poverty  we  would  not  see — 
The  loving  word  of  sympathy 
By  us  unspoken. 

Oh.  when  the  last  great  day  is  come 

That  swift  advances, 
And  we  before  our  Judge  stand  dumb, 
How  terrible  will  be  the  sum 
Of  our  lost  chances. 


22 


GOD  BLESS  GRANDMAMMA. 


"  God  bless  Grandmamma,"'  my  little  boy  is  praying, 
Every  night  and  morning  when  his  prayers  are  said; 

Still  those  familiar  words  ever  he  keeps  saying, 

"  God  bless  Grandmamma" — and  Grandmamma  is  dead. 

Say  shall  I  tell  him  that  vain  is  his  petition, 

Since  she  is  safe  now  from  earthly  griefs  and  cares; 

Reaping  a  sweet  and  gentle  life's  fruition 

Where  she  no  longer  needs  our  love  and  prayers  ? 

Why  should  I  thus  his  childish  spirit  sadden  ? 

Quench  thus  the  loving  remembrance  in  his  breast  ? 
Nay,  let  him  name  her  if  his  heart  it  gladden; 

"God  bless  Grandmamma."   though  Grandmamma  is  blest. 

Pray  on,  my  child.  I  will  never  bid  you  cease  it, 
Loving  and  praying  to  none  can  e'er  work  ill; 

Though  Heaven's  joy  is  hers,  it  never  can  decrease  it 

To  know  the  child  she  loved  on  earth  is  praying  for  her  still. 


23 

BLIND. 

"  So  Jesus  had  compassion  on   them,   and   touched  their  eyes,   and 
immediately  their  eyes  received  sight,  and  they  followed  Him." 


On  the  world's  wayside,  pausing,  worn  and  weary, 

Seeking  the  path  that  is  so  hard  to  find, 
Grope  we  our  way  amid  the  darkness  dreary, 

For  we,  alas  !  are  blind. 

Past  us  the  tide  of  busy  life  is  streaming ; 
High  up  we  hear  the  carol  of  the  lark  ; 
On  us  God's  glorious  sun  is  warmly  beaming. 

Yet  to  us  all  is  dark. 

Hark  !   who   is   coming  ?     What   that   surging,   swaying 

Sound,  as  of  many  people  drawing  nigh  1 
Nearer  it  comes  !     What  is  it  they  are  saying  ? 

"  Jesus  is  passing  by  !  ' 

Pass  us  not  by,  O  Lord  of  Light  and  Glory  ! 
Pass  us  not  by,  Thou  High  and  Holy  One  ! 
Help  us,  for  Ave  have  heard  the  wondrous  story 

Of  deeds  that  Thou  hast  done. 

We  see  !  oh,  what  a  glorious  world  before  us 

Starts  into  being  at  that  touch  benign — 
The  sky — the  light — the  flowers — and,  bending  o'er  us, 

A  face  that  is  Divine  ! 

We  see — and  know  that  all  we  have  been  needing 

Is  there,  in  Him.     We  stand  with  wonder  dumb. 
And  see  that  look,  so  tender  and  so  pleading. 

All  mutely  saying  "  Come  !  " 

We  turn  and  follow.     Oh  !  where'er  Thou  goest, 

Thorny  and  rough  altho'  the  pathway  be. 
We  know  not  whither,  Saviour,  but  Tliou  knowest — 

Oh,  let  us  follow  Thee  ! 

Follow  Thee,  though  our  spirits  quail  and  shiver, 

Though  our  faint  hearts  may  tremble  and  despond ; 
Follow  Thee,  through  the  waves  of  the  dark  river, 

Into  the  light   beyond. 


H 


IN    THE    CEMETERY. 


Within  the  silent  City  of  the  Dead, 

Come,  walk  with  me  a  little  while  to-day  ; 
Some  tender  rosebuds  let  us  softly  lay 

In  fond  remembrance  on  one  grassy  bed. 

Ah  !  many  a  sad  heart,  many  a  weary  head, 
At  rest  for  ever,  here  is  quiet  sleeping, 
All  sorrows  past.     There  is  no  pain,  nor  weeping, 

Within  the  silent  City  of  the  Dead. 

Here  let  us  sit,  and  see  the  sunlight  rest 

Upon  the  graves:  as  though  the  smile  of  God 
Fell  like  a  benison  upon  the  sod 

That  lies  above  each  sleeper's  quiet  breast. 

Without  the  walls  the  strife  for  daily  bread 
Goes  on  unceasingly  from  day  to  day. 
Toilers  !  come  here,  and  cast  your  cares  away, 

Within  the  silent  City  of  the  Dead. 

Here  grief  and  gladness,  sin  and  sorrow  cease; 

Here  beats  no  heart  with  either  hope  or  fear; 

O'er  all  the  silent  homes  around  us  here 
Dwells  the  great  calm  of  an  eternal  peace. 

Oh  !  blest  are  they  who,  victors  in  the  strife, 
Await  God's  call  to  leave  their  narrow  bed, 
To  quil  the  silent  City  of  the  Dead, 

And  enter  that  of  Everlasting  Life. 


VOICES. 


I  am  listening;  to  the  voices 

On  the  other  shore, 
Voices  that  I  loved  so  dearly 

In  the  days  of  yore. 
They  are  gone  away  for  ever 

O'er  the  river  wide, 
But  I  still  can  hear  them  calling 

From  the  other  side. 

Voices  of  the  dead  ye  are  callirg  ! 

And  I  must  depart — I  cannot  stay- 
'Mid  the  shadows  round  me  falling, 
Still  your  gentle  tones  enthralling, 
Ever,  night  and  day, 
Seem  to  me  to  say, 
Rise  !  and  come  away  ! 

In  life's  noon  the  world's  loud  clamour 

Dulled  my  listening  ear, 
And  although  they  still  were  calling 

Yet  I  could  not  hear. 
Now  when  night  is  closing  round  me, 

Swiftly  —silently — 
I  can  hear  them  o'er  the  river 

Softly  calling  me. 

Voices  of  the  dead  ye  are  calling  ! 

And  I  must  depart — I  cannot  stay— 
'Mid  the  shadows  round  me  falling, 
Still  your  gentle  tones  enthralling. 
Ever,  night  and  day, 
Seem  to  me  to  say, 
Rise  !  and  come  awav  ! 


26 


FOR    EVER. 


If  I  could  only  know  that  you  and  I 

Some  day  might  walk  together,  hand  in  hand, 
Through  the  fair  meadows  of  the  Better  Land. 
It  were  not  hard  to  die. 

Could  I  but  know  that  we  who  have  been  one 
Here,  amid  storm  and  sunshine — good  and  ill — 
Might  be  eternally  united  still. 

When  this  brief  life  is  done. 

I  should  not  fear,  when  Death's  stern  summons  came, 
To  enter  the  dark  river,  deep  and  wide, 
If  I  might  find  you  on  the  other  side, 

Loving  me  still  the  same. 

Death's  keenest  pang  is  not  the  parting  breath  : 
The  agony  with  which  that  hour  is  rife 
Is  severance  from  those  more  dear  than  life — 
That  is  the  pain  of  death. 

God,  who  Thyself  art  Love,  oh  !  hear  my  prayer, 

Oh  !  bring  us  home,  where  partings  and  where  tears 
Are  not,  and  let  the  love  of  many  years 
Become  eternal  there. 


EVENING. 


On  the  western  height 

Shadows  have  descended, 
Now  the  day  is  ended ; 

Toil  and  care  take  flight 

In  the  fading  light. 

In  the  fading  light, 

As  each  dying  glimmer 
Ever  groweth  dimmer, 

Heaven  seems  more  bright 

In  the  fading  light. 

Creepeth  on  the  night — 

All  the  pleasant  places, 

Old  familiar  faces, 
Vanish  from  my  sight 
In  the  fading  light. 

Nothing  can  affright 

If  Thy  kind  hand  guide  me ; 

Oh,  be  Thou  beside  me, 
Lord  of  power  and  might, 
In  the  fading  light  ! 


&^^    <*-*.    h^L^.    £  3    °C* 


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WNIVERarrY  Of  (AMFORNI 
L06  ANO* 


I  Cyay/ora 


■     PAMPHIFT    Biunco      mi 


m. 


Bitterson  - 


5149  Poems 

P2733A17 

1903 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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1       1'" 


FR 

5149 
P2733A17 
1903 


